Nothing Good Comes After Midnight
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Fiji is having a bit of trouble coping with everything after her kidnapping. Manfred comes over to help. No romance, just sweet bromace.


**Ugh, I love this silly show and I love these silly books (even if they have nothing to do with each other) and I love all these silly characters. Mostly I just love Manfred's big Bambi eyes and Fiji's everything and I really want them to become best friends. Also, Olivia could punch me in the face and I would say thank you. This is just a quick follow-up to what I thought might have happened in Unearthed. Just a bunch of friendship h/c. Hope you all enjoy! :D**

 **A/N: I own nothing =/**

* * *

Fiji's windows are shaking.

It looks like a trick of the light at first, a shimmer that could have been mistaken for the west Texas heat settling as evening fell over the tiny town. It was hard to tell with the dust in the air, the heat rising from sunbaked pavement and bleached rock. Even when the sun went down and the broad expanse of sky above Midnight glittered with tiny pinpricks of stars, the heat still clung to the roads and the light poles, seeping up through weather-worn cracks and potholes no one had gotten around to filling yet. It would have been easy to blame the anomaly of Fiji's windows on the lingering effects of a heat mirage but Manfred has a feeling that isn't the case.

He has a semi-decent view of her cottage from his kitchen window, the old glass smeared with decades of dirt and grime. He's been meaning to wash them but just hasn't found the time between the were-tigers and vampires and succubi filtering in and out through town. Sometimes he honestly wonders what his grandmother's fascination with this tiny, dusty town was and why she thought it would be a good idea for him to come out here. Sure, city life wasn't that great either and he needed a place to lay low but Midnight? There were more cactuses than people here and with the way things had been going lately, he's beginning to wonder how much longer the human population will last.

But those are thoughts for another time; right now, his primary focus is the fact that Fiji's windows are shaking. Unless Midnight suddenly developed an active faultline, he's pretty sure it has something to do with Fiji.

He sets his coffee mug down on the counter, the handful of painkillers, sleeping pills, and anti-anxiety medication rattling onto the formica beside it. Tonight was shaping up to be a multi-pill night between his encounter with Hightower, the fallout with Creek, and just everything in general. He's tired and he's sore and he feels like there are bugs crawling on him when he's still for too long. He had every intention of downing that particular handful of pills and collapsing into bed and sleeping for the foreseeable future but there's something he needs to check on first. Wait, not some _thing_ , some _one_ ; a certain hippie witch with big brown eyes and more power than she knew what to do with.

Pills forgotten, Manfred grabbed his jacket and walked toward the door, stepping out onto the porch and locking the door behind him. It's an old habit he'd carried with him from the city, one he couldn't quite bring himself to get rid of, especially in the wake of everything that had happened recently. He had chided himself about it for a while when he first moved here but now it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. He tucks the key in his pocket and makes his way across the empty street toward Fiji's cottage.

By the time he reaches her front porch, he can't shrug the shaking windows off as a trick of the light anymore. The glass is vibrating in the frame, the tinny rattle of it echoing around every side of the house. The plants around Fiji's doorway and leading into her garden are swaying heavily in a nonexistent breeze and the weather vane on her roof is spinning like it's connected to motor. Fiji's cottage seems like a living thing all on it's own, breathing and quaking and shuddering from the excess of power being released inside.

Manfred swallows once and puts his hand on the doorknob. He considers knocking but figure with all the chaos existing outside of the cottage along with whatever is going on inside, Fiji probably wouldn't hear him. He takes a breath, turns the knob, and pushes the door open.

The inside of the cottage looks like it's caught somewhere between a tornado and an earthquake. The furniture is rattling, book pages are fluttering on every shelf, the dishes in the cabinets are clanking and clattering together behind the cabinet doors. The door jerks itself out of Manfred's hand the second he gets inside and slams shut behind him, a gust of wind or some other unseen force sweeping past him at the same time.

In the middle of all of it is Fiji, sitting hunched and small in one corner of the room. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and her hands are clamped on either side of her head, fingers tangled in her thick, unruly curls. Her marmalade cat, Mr. Snuggly, is perched on the coffee table across from her, tail puffed and swishing back and forth quickly in distress. He looks up when Manfred enters, ears flattening just a little and a low growl rumbling in his chest. Manfred holds up one hand in the universal sign of peace for the cat and steps into the room, stumbling just a little as the rug beneath his feet jerks a bit when he steps on it.

Fiji doesn't even realize Manfred is in here, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she mutters something rapid and quiet under her breath. Whatever is happening is something she can't control which makes it dangerous.

Manfred dodges a flying picture frame and makes his way across the room quickly, dropping to his knees in front of the distraught witch. "Fiji! Hey, Fiji! It's Manfred," he half-shouts over the noise of the rattling...everything, reaching out and laying both hands on her knees. He thinks for a split second this may not be the best idea, that Fiji probably has the power to break all of his fingers with a glare, but then her eyes snap open and his fingers remain unbroken and the rattling around them dies down marginally.

"Manfred…?" Fiji asks, her voice broken and raw when she speaks. The dishes are still shuddering in the cabinets but the furniture has stopped shaking and the flutter of books and paper slows to a halt. Even though things seem to have calmed down for the moment, Fiji still looks stricken. "What are you doing here?"

The psychic shakes his head once, not quite understanding the question. "I came to check on you," he answers honestly, thinking the explanation should be obvious. "It looked like you might be in trouble."

Fiji blinks rapidly like she's trying to clear tears from her eyes. "Oh," she says, voice shaky and watery. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I just…" she doesn't get a chance to finish before her face crumples and a quiet, broken sob shakes its way out of her.

Manfred is at a loss for a moment. He hasn't been in Midnight long but in all the time he's been here he's never seen Fiji like this. Fiji with her warm smiles and prairie skirts and homemade cookies; she was like sunshine and spring rain all at the same time and she shouldn't look as broken as she does right now. Fiji shouldn't look like this.

"Hey," he says finally, keeping his voice as soft and soothing as he can. It's a technique he perfected during his time working with grieving widows and distraught loved ones; a soft voice is generally the best approach. "Easy, easy," he continues, keeping his hands resting on the tops of her knees. "Tell me what's going on. What happened?"

Fiji sniffs and hiccups and scrubs at her eyes before she responds. "I...um...I got to meet some of the Sons of Lucifer tonight," she says with a rueful, bitter smile. "Real nice guys, you know? They...uh...kidnapped me and tied me up and used me to lure Bobo out to their compound."

Manfred blinks in surprise, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd been so focused on his own issues with Hightower and Creek and everything else that he hadn't even realized anything had happened to Fiji. "Fiji, God, I'm...I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Did they hurt you at all?"

The witch sniffs again and shakes her head slightly. "No," she says, her voice tear-stained and unsteady. "No, they just drugged me so I couldn't use my power while they had me."

Manfred's frown deepens and he suddenly becomes aware that he can make out the very faint scent of something sharp and medicinal, almost like a pain patch or a sterilized hospital dressing. He sees a small patch of reddened skin on the side of Fiji's neck and realizes that's where they had put it. He feels a sudden, burning flash of rage at the idea and shakes his head quickly to dismiss the violent and terrible fantasies that ran through his mind just then.

"Bobo and Lemuel came to my rescue," Fiji continues, letting her head fall back against the wall with a soft thump. "I don't know what those men would have done if they-" she starts and Manfred cuts her off before she can continue down that line of thought because that's not something she needs to think about right now.

"Hey," he says again. "You're okay now, you're safe. No one's gonna hurt you again, I promise."

Fiji's eyes fill with tears again and she shakes her head. "I'm not worried about someone hurting me," she tells him miserably. "I'm worried about someone getting hurt because of _me_."

She holds up one hand limply and suddenly all the books on the shelf across the room flip out onto the floor with a loud clatter. The witch frowns and lets out a shaky breath. "When they put that patch on me...it was like blocking a river. My powers were still there but they had nowhere to go and now they're coming back all at once and I can't control it. I felt so helpless when I was stuck there, so useless because I couldn't use my powers to help get us out of there, but now I'm terrified that I might hurt someone because I can't control them."

Manfred looks around the room again, takes in the furniture that's still slightly shaking against the wooden floor and the faint rattling of dishes, and becomes all too aware of the fact that it's all happening without Fiji's assistance. It's reacting to her physical presence and her emotional state and the sheer power radiating off of her. Not for the first time, Manfred once again vows to never, under any circumstances, piss off Fiji Cavanaugh.

"Well, it looks like you're doing a pretty good job of controlling it right now," he says, reaching out and plucking a toppled book from the floor and setting it on the (still vibrating) coffee table. "I mean you haven't accidentally turned me into a frog or anything yet."

Fiji almost smiles and simply shakes her head. "I can't turn you into a frog. I can only make you think you're a frog."

Manfred can't tell if she's joking or not so he doesn't ask. He does stand up slowly though and offer her his hands. "Come on, let's get you up off the floor. It's probably a lot easier for you to control your powers when you're not cramped against a wall."

The witch looks unsure at first but she finally relents and accepts Manfred's hands, allowing him to slowly and carefully pull her up off the floor. She's still a little woozy and unsteady from the drug patch and she can't quite stop the wave of dizziness that sweeps through her upon standing. Manfred seems to realize this and moves forward and loops an arm around her waist, slowly shuffling them both over to the couch in the middle of the room.

Fiji sinks down onto the couch heavily, winded from the short trip across the room, and drops her elbows onto her knees. Manfred sits down next to her and places a warm hand in between her shoulders. "You okay? Are you going to be sick?"

She shakes her head once. "No, I'm fine," she tells him with a weak, watery smile. "Still a little loopy from the drugs, that's all." Mr Snuggly turns to face them from his place on the coffee table, watching the interaction with the kind of detached concern only a cat is capable of portraying.

The psychic doesn't look convinced but he doesn't push it. "Can I make you some tea or something? Would that help?"

Fiji almost smiles again. "Yeah...um...there's a cannister in the cabinet next to the sink. It's an herbal blend but it's really great for hangovers too so it might help with this."

Manfred nods and stands up, stepping over a few scattered books and picture frames as he makes his way to the kitchen. He finds the cannister and a mug and sets about making the tea in a detached, methodical kind of way. It's the only way he can keep his thoughts of what happened with Hightower and Creek and Fiji at bay; if he doesn't dwell on it for too long, he won't get overwhelmed. He's still angry with himself for everything that happened, for not realizing just how much trouble Fiji had been in earlier, but he plans to make up for it now.

Once the tea has steeped for an appropriate amount of time (he thinks), he gathers the mug and brings it back into the living room. Fiji is still sitting on the couch, staring at the floor with one hand tangled in her limp curls. Her eyes are red-rimmed and watery and her normally warm brown skin has a dull, ashen tint to it. She looks exhausted, both mentally and physically, and she jumps a little when Manfred touches her shoulder and offers her the mug.

The psychic rejoins her on the couch, noting silently the shaking furniture and rattling dishes have stopped. He watches Fiji from the corner of his eye, taking in the shakiness of her hand as she sips the tea from the mug. "You know, my grandmother had days like this too sometimes," he starts suddenly, the words feeling strangely loud and intrusive in the silence of the house.

Fiji sniffs and looks at him curiously. "Oh yeah?" she asks, her voice a little stuffy from tears.

Manfred nods. "Yep," he continues, leaning back a little against the couch. "Not so much when she was older, when she started getting sick, but when she was younger she would have days where she was just overwhelmed with everything and could barely function. My grandmother's gig was a lot like mine, smoke and mirrors mostly for the paying customers, but she had real talent and that talent got a little _too_ real for her sometimes and she'd have bad days. I remember seeing it happen a couple times when I was a kid, back when I first started living with her."

Fiji frowns and balances her mug on her knee. "So what did she do? When she had bad days like that?"

Manfred offers her a crooked grin. "She'd load up on whiskey."

That causes a startled but genuine chuckle from Fiji and she shakes her head with a small smile. "Whiskey, huh? That was her magic cure?"

Manfred holds up a hand like he's swearing on a Bible. "God's truth," he says with a smirk all his own. "She used to tell me that when she had bad days like that, the only way to deal with all the voices was to get so tanked they didn't make sense anymore. She had charms and hexes set up so the spirits couldn't possess her when she was like that but she told me that once they figured out she was out of commission for a while, that was the only time they left her alone."

He smiles a little, half-fondly and half-embarrassed. "When my own powers started to get stronger as I got older, she told me, 'Manny, there are only two surefire ways to drown out all the noise when the dead get in your head: drink it away or fuck it away.'"

Fiji lets out another bark of laughter and it's so nice to see her smile again that Manfred can't help but smile back. "Yeah, Xylda was nothing if not candid about her methods."

"So does it work?" Fiji asks after a second, lifting the mug to take another sip of the tea. "Her methods?"

Manfred smirks a little and shrugs. "I haven't really tried them," he tells her honestly. It's a strange conversation, he'll be the first to admit that, but it feels strangely comfortable with Fiji so he doesn't mind as much. "I find that alcohol usually makes it worse and as for the whole "physical remedy," well…" he fades off with a small frown.

He's been trying to avoid thinking about what had happened between him and Creek, the look of shock and disgust and horror that crossed her face when she found out about Violet. It wasn't that he thought he could hide it from her forever (although he did kind of hope they'd be together long enough for that to maybe be an issue one day) but he wanted to be the one to let the literal and metaphorical skeletons out of his closet, not Hightower.

There were few things in his life that Manfred had done on his own terms and he had wanted this particularly ugly blemish in his past to be one of them. Now it was all out in the open, Creek would very likely never speak to him again, and he had ended up with another death on his conscience (even if Hightower's death had been at his own hands).

He sighs softly and tries again. "The "physical remedy" gets complicated more often than not. I usually never stay in any one place long enough for it to really be necessary but the few times I have tried it…" he fades off again with another shrug. "Let's just say it's not as helpful as my grandmother made it out to be."

Fiji frowns at him with an expression he can't really identify. "So what do you do when it becomes too much?"

The psychic reaches into his pocket and pulls out the prescription bottle, rattling the contents loosely. "I rely on a more pharmaceutical approach." Upon seeing Fiji's slight frown, he shrugs one shoulder and offers a sideways grin. "Not the healthiest method, I know, but it helps when things get to be too intense." He scrubs at his eyes with one hand, suddenly all too aware of how tired he is. "I've actually felt that way a lot lately."

His grandmother used to have a saying when he was younger: _nothing good comes after midnight, Manny; not when you play the Devil's game._ Well now he lives in a town called Midnight and honestly he's never felt more out of sorts with his own abilities than he has since moving out here. This wasn't the Devil's game anymore; he felt like he was taking up residence in Hell's living room.

Fiji nods once in understanding and takes another sip of her tea. "I've felt it too," she tells him quietly, absently running her finger over the frayed hem of her shawl and mending the stitching as she does. "The vale feels like it's shifting or weakening, like something's affected the balance." She sighs softly, shawl hemmed beneath the tip of her finger. "I don't know what's happening to our little town, Manfred. Even the things that used to feel so stable and sure are starting to crumble."

There's something about her voice and the distinct sadness in her eyes that makes Manfred think she's speaking about more than just the town. "Did something happen with Bobo?" he asks, a hunch that's turning into more of a certainty with every passing second.

Fiji flinches; she probably didn't mean to but there's a very slight tensing of her fingers around the handle of the mug and her lips set in a tight line. Manfred opens his mouth to apologize but Fiji starts speaking first.

"I found out a little bit about his family tonight," she begins, not really looking at anything but the middle distance across the room. "Apparently they have a lot of connections and involvement with the Sons of Lucifer and their neo-Nazi ideology. Bobo's grandfather was like their Messiah and they seem to think he had a huge cache of weapons he'd been collecting, the location of which he shared with Bobo. That's why they keep coming after Bobo, they think he knows where these weapons are."

She smiles a little then, a flat, hollow thing that has no business of her usually warm, friendly face. "Turns out they were right; Bobo did have the weapons and he handed them over in exchange for my release."

Manfred frowns; he feels like he just swallowed a ball of molten lead. "You don't think Bobo is involved with-?"

"No," Fiji says quickly, sharply, like is she says it loud and fast enough there's no way it can be true. "No, he's not involved with them," she says again, her voice a little softer and more sure this time around. "He got caught in the middle of it because of his family but he wasn't involved in what they were doing. He said he took the weapons and hid them to keep the Sons of Lucifer from fulfilling his grandfather's demented visions."

Manfred watches her carefully, knowing there's something else she's not saying. "But you're still angry with him?"

Fiji deflates then, slumping against the arm of the couch with a weary sigh. "No," she says after a second of contemplation. "No, I'm not mad at Bobo. I'm mad at myself mostly for not knowing; I felt like I knew everything about him and then all this happened and…" She sighs heavily and shakes her head again. "I just feel like I should have known..."

Manfred smiles faintly; he didn't have to be psychic to know about Fiji's feelings for Bobo. She practically glowed every time she saw him and the smile on her face was enough to prove that she was head over absolute heels for him and had been for a long time. Finding out such an important and shocking piece of his life must have been difficult but he also has the feeling Bobo kept it from everyone for a reason. Probably to prevent the exact thing that happened tonight when someone he cared about suffered because of his family's past.

He reaches out and lays a hand on Fiji's arm. "He was probably doing it to protect you," he begins quietly, watching as Fiji fidgets with the hem of her shawl again. "Sometimes people spend their entire lives trying to distance themselves from something that happened in their past and it still finds a way to catch up to them."

He thinks about his own past and the demons he harbors, both metaphorical and literal, and shakes his head. "My point is that Bobo wasn't keeping any of this from you because he didn't trust you or he didn't want you to know. He probably did it because he was trying to get away from what happened in his past and move on with his life. I think he was doing it to protect you."

Fiji gives him a mildly irritated look and snaps her fingers, causing a discarded receipt on the floor to disappear in a tiny cloud of thick, black smoke. "I don't need someone to protect me."

Manfred holds up his hands in surrender because he doesn't exactly want to go the way of that receipt either. "I never thought you did," he tells her with a small, half-smile. "But Bobo cares about you and he probably thought the only way to keep you safe was to keep that part of his life hidden. I think part of him just couldn't stand the idea of you looking at him and seeing any kind of ties to a white supremacist group." He nudges her knee with his for added emphasis. "He cares about you, Fiji. He really does."

For the briefest of seconds, Fiji's cheeks flush a pretty rosey color but it fades just as quickly when she lets out a heavy sigh. "I know, it's just…" she fades off and gestures vaguely with one hand. She huffs softly and tries again. "You're right," she says, chancing a glance at Manfred from the corner of her eye. "I know you're right, I'm just so tired I can't think straight and after everything that happened tonight I just feel so out of sorts and-"

The coffee table begins to rattle again just a bit and Mr. Snuggly makes a low, disgruntled grumble in Fiji's direction. The witch nods and stops herself before she can get worked up again, shaking her head once and making her curls bounce a little. The table stops shaking so it seems to work.

"This will all make more sense in the morning," she says again, a little more finality in her voice than before. "But right now I'm just tired. I think I'm going to go to bed."

Manfred nods like he expected as much and stands when Fiji stands, ready to move forward and steady her again if she needed him to. She looks a little more stable on her feet now than she did earlier so he's guessing the tea worked. Still, the idea of leaving her all alone after everything that happened feels wrong. She may be more than capable of incinerating a receipt with the snap of her fingers but with her red-rimmed eyes and limp tangle of curls, Fiji just looks incredibly vulnerable.

"I can stay if you want," he blurts suddenly and when Fiji gives him a surprised look he knows he has to elaborate. "I mean I know you've been through a lot tonight and if you're uncomfortable staying by yourself I can sleep on the couch or the floor or…" he gestures around the room at the variety of flat, horizontal surfaces that could suffice as a bed if need be.

Fiji gives him a smile then, a true smile, and shakes her head. "I appreciate the offer, Manfred, I really do, but my powers are still a little chaotic right now and I'm afraid if you stayed you might get accidentally zapped in the middle of the night."

The psychic shrugs a little and offers a faint smile in return. "I've had worse," he mumbles, feeling the ache down to his bones from where Hightower had pushed him down the stairs earlier.

Fiji shakes her head again. "Not from me," she says with a small, sad frown. "When my powers get like this, it's dangerous for everyone. Luckily I've never hurt anyone before I don't want to risk you to being the first."

"But thank you," she says, moving forward and coming to a stop in front of him. She reaches out and wraps her arms around him lightly, pulling him into a hug. "For coming over and talking with me. It helps more than you know."

Manfred just nods and hugs her back, running one hand up and down her back slowly. He can still smell the sharp twang of the drug patch that had been on her earlier but underneath that he can make out the warm, desert rose scent of her perfume and the smell of cinnamon in her hair. He hugs her until she pulls away, letting her be the one to break contact when she's ready.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?" he tells her with a level look. "Even if it's just to talk. Just call me and I'll be right back over."

Fiji smiles again and it's still a tired, wan version of her normal radiant grin but it looks closer to normal than it had earlier. "I will, I promise," she tells him with a small nod of acknowledgement.

Satisfied, Manfred turns to make his way to the door. He's tired too, and sore and emotionally drained and honestly the thought of going back home and crawling into bed is probably the best idea he's had all day. He turns back over his shoulder to look at Fiji, catching sight of her cat just as he saunters his way across the living room over piles of still-toppled books and picture frames.

Mr. Snuggly circles Fiji's feet slowly, rubbing against her legs and tangling himself in her long skirt. The cat is watching her with his large golden eyes and if Manfred didn't know any better, he could swear the cat was about a second and a half away from opening his mouth to say something as well. He shakes his head quickly, reasoning that the random thought is _definitely_ the result of fatigue, and that that's his cue to leave. He bids Fiji and her marmalade cat goodnight one last time and steps out onto the porch.

The desert air doesn't feel quite as warm anymore, a stiff western wind with the barest hint of a cold front sweeps from one end of the town to the other, kicking up dust across the street. It's dark and quiet in the early morning hours and Manfred crosses his arms over his chest as he steps off the porch to walk across Fiji's lawn.

He turns back once when he reaches the edge of her property and looks back just in time to see the lights go out in the windows of Fiji's cottage. The windows aren't rattling

anymore, the furniture isn't shaking; all is quiet in Fiji Cavanaugh's home.

Satisfied, Manfred turns and finishes the short trek back to his own house and slips inside. He drops his key on Xylda's old dining room table and stops to consider the handful of pills he'd left on the counter earlier. Deciding he's really too tired to deal with that tonight and knowing he'll likely regret in the morning, he abandons the pills for another night and makes his way to the bedroom. He has just enough forethought to kick of his shoes before he collapses on the bed and falls into a deep, heavy sleep that takes him away from thoughts of Hightower and Creek and everything else.

' _Nothing good comes after midnight, Manny,'_ Xylda had told him and Manfred agrees wholeheartedly but figures it's nothing a shit ton of sleep won't cure.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading guys! :D**


End file.
